Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;
Being vex’d a sea nourished with lovers’ tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet...
(Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 1)
HE HELD ME TIGHTLY, the angle of his head forcing me to nuzzle into his neck—right where his cologne lived. His hands wandered under my coat, fingers roaming up and down my back. I willed him to slide his hands underneath my sweater, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly pulled my coat off and tossed it over the stair railing before pulling me back into his arms.
I shivered and slipped my arms inside his suit jacket and around his waist, feeling the warmth of his chest against mine. He didn’t object or pull away. In fact, he pulled me against him even more tightly.
“I was so afraid I wouldn’t get a chance to do this today,” he whispered.
“Mmm, me too.”
Who was I kidding? I was afraid I wouldn’t get to do this until May.
I explored the taut muscles of his back. Humming contentedly, he brought his hands up to cradle my face, caressing my cheeks and gazing into my eyes.
Daniel, please, kiss me. I looked at his lips eagerly, but he simply rested his face against mine.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to pull you into my arms as soon as you walked into that church,” he murmured against my temple. “You look lovely today.”
“You look pretty incredible yourself,” I said, shyly smiling, overwhelmed by his complimentary words. “Great suit,” I added, running my hands down the lapels of his jacket.
“I’m glad you approve,” he said. “I had one hell of a time trying to decide which tie to wear.”
He actually blushed. Adorable. I was trying to decide whether this suit surpassed the one he’d worn to Canoe. I hadn’t gotten a close-up look at him that night, and this was the first time I’d seen him in a tie. Damn, he wore it well. I pictured him standing in front of his mirror, agonizing over which one worked best with the suit.
I snuggled into him. “You realize we’re skulking in a corner again, right?”
“Have I mentioned how much I love skulking with you?” He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind my ear.
“Not yet. Personally, I think I’d prefer not having to skulk.”
“All in good time,” he said, smiling at me gently.
“Fifty-five days?”
“Ish,” he countered.
Ish? My eyebrows went up. “Come on, sunshine, fifty-five days is bad enough.”
He leaned back against the wall, hands resting on my waist. “Think about how incredible being together will be after having to wait fifty-five-ish days, not to mention the thirty-ish we’ve already suffered through.”
“That’s not much comfort,” I said, tugging gently on his tie.
“Sorry, Aubrey. We both knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” His face fell. “Are you hungry?”
“I suppose so. What did you have in mind?”
“You look absolutely ravishing, and we are mere footsteps away from a couple of great restaurants. How about we have lunch? I have to spend some time with you today or I’ll go crazy.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Daniel.”
“I happen to know of a discreet little corner in the Avenue Lounge that would be perfect for a leisurely lunch. Besides, the odds of someone we know being here are slim to none. Please say yes.” He took my hands in his.
“It’s your ass on the line,” I said. “I’m trying to give you an out here.”
“I don’t want an out. I want to treat you to lunch. Please?”
I crumbled when he batted his long eyelashes. “Of course I’d love to have lunch with you.” I sighed. “It’s your call. If you’re fine with it, then I am too.”
He smiled and turned to grab our coats. “This way,” he said, opening the door and directing me through the lobby.
“Two for lunch?” the hostess asked, looking at Daniel to confirm.
“Yes, please, and I’d like that table by the screen.” He pointed to the corner of the restaurant where a table was partially hidden from view by a decorative folding screen and a large plant.
“Of course, sir.”
She led us to the table. Daniel pulled out my chair and draped my coat over the seat back before sitting down opposite me. He had a clear view of the restaurant, and he took a minute, eyes narrowed, to scan the other occupants of the room.
“What do you think?” I said.
He relaxed back into his chair and smiled. “The coast is clear.”
“Good. So tell me, Mr. Grant, do you come here a lot?”
“This is where I bring all of my unwitting victims, Miss Price,” he said, grinning mischievously. I studied his face.
“You looked just like Jeremy for a second. Sometimes I think you’re nothing alike, but sometimes when you smile, I can really see the similarities.”
Daniel leaned on the table, hands clasped, eyes drifting over my shoulder for a few seconds.
“There’s a very good reason why he doesn’t look like my brother. You see, he’s not.”
“He’s not? What? I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story, but oddly relevant given the day we’ve had.” Daniel fiddled idly with his fork. “When we were little, Jeremy’s parents—my aunt and uncle—went on a holiday to my family’s house in the south of France. Jeremy stayed with us. While they were there, his parents were killed in a car accident. The driver of the other car was impaired.”
“God, that’s awful.”
Daniel nodded. “Brad was five. Jeremy and I were three. He’s lived with us ever since. He doesn’t remember his own parents.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know. It’s a shitty situation. He has a few issues because of it. He’s a nervous driver, and he goes ballistic when he sees people drinking and driving.”
“That’s understandable.”
“He’s mellowed a hell of a lot, but he had some problems in high school. He felt as if people didn’t understand him. He’s never felt sorry for himself or tried to use his predicament to win pity votes or anything, though. He’s a phenomenal person.” Daniel tapped his index finger on the table. “Anyway, that’s why I feel so horrible about this business with Julie, especially now that I’ve gotten to know her. I’d hate to feel responsible for Jeremy not having a chance to meet a great girl and have some fun.”
“Does that mean you do want me to give her his number?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe he could join us tomorrow night.”
“Really?”
Daniel grimaced. “Bad idea?”
“It might be awkward, you know, setting them up while we’re hiding behind the TA-student thing. It could be messy, especially after today. Julie saw us looking at each other in the church. She asked me outright what was going on with us, and I had to lie to her. It was awful.”
“I can’t help it, Aubrey. When we’re together, I lose all ability to reason.” He moved his leg under the table and pressed his foot against mine as if to make his point clearer. “I shouldn’t have looked at your note in the church in front of everyone, but I was dying of curiosity,” he admitted sheepishly. “After I’d read your words, it took every ounce of self-control not to run down that aisle, sweep you into my arms, and carry you out the door.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” I smiled at him. “But we do need to be more careful,” I said, aware that having lunch together in a hotel wasn’t careful at all.
“I hear you.” He scanned the room again, looking back at me and shrugging, satisfied that we were safe in our anonymity. “Let me think a little more about what to do about Julie and Jeremy, okay?”
“Of course. It’s your call.”
He picked up a menu. “Anyway, enough of all that. Would you like a glass of wine or something? You like red, if I remember correctly?”
I laughed. “I’m surprised you remember anything from that night.”
“Oh, there are a few choice asspects of that evening that are indelibly imprinted on my memory.” Daniel chuckled at his own joke.
“There are a few things I’d be hard-pressed to forget as well,” I said.
He shifted in his chair and smirked at me. “Very clever. So, anyway, drink?”
“I can’t always be responsible for my behavior after a few glasses of red wine.”
“Well, that’s decided. A bottle of red it is.”
He snapped the wine menu closed, and I chuckled. “We can’t drink a whole bottle of red wine. You have to drive.”
“I know. I’m kidding,” he said, before dropping his voice to a lower register and adding, “Sort of.”
Noticing our closed menus, the waitress approached. “Are you ready to order?” she asked.
“I’m afraid we haven’t even looked yet,” Daniel said. “But we’d like some wine. I think we’ll go with a half-liter of the Argentinean Malbec.”
“Of course,” she said, disappearing to place our order.
“So, any menu recommendations?” I asked him.
“Everything’s wonderful. You’re not a vegetarian, right? You had turkey the other day, but do you eat red meat?”
I couldn’t help smiling. We really did have so much to learn about each other. The thrill of a new relationship, the whole process of getting to know someone—it was so exciting.
“I am most definitely not a vegetarian, and I’m willing to try anything once.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said with a saucy grin.
I shook my head and looked back down at my menu, pretending exasperation. He really was incorrigible.
“So, I noticed you tossed out the countdown of fifty-five days pretty quickly earlier. I gather you like the calendar?”
“I love it,” I said. “I could totally picture you sitting at Starbucks, painstakingly writing out those notes for me.”
“So you’re saying I’m pussy-whipped?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
“Hell, yeah, I’ve got you right where I want you.”
“I wish I could say the same.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Where I really want you is upstairs in one of the best suites with a king-sized bed and a Jacuzzi.”
“Just say the word.” I looked at him steadily.
He leaned back and exhaled heavily before returning my look with an equally unwavering gaze of his own. “As much as it’s killing me, you know we can’t do that. I’m sorry.”
“I guess I can’t complain, can I? I knew what I was getting myself into.”
He stroked my thumb gently, staring wistfully at my hand. The waitress walked over with a tray, and he straightened up, pulling his hand back calmly. After pouring us each a glass of the wine and placing our waters on the table, she took our orders.
Relieved of our menus, Daniel picked up his glass, tilted it, and swirled the wine around a few times.
“You’re not going to take a swig and spit it in the plant, I hope?” I asked him.
He put his glass down and laughed. “I’m actually trying to think of what we can toast to. It seems inappropriate to be happy today.”
“It has been a sad day—a sad week. It’s important to keep things in perspective, though,” I reminded him. “In situations like this, the best thing you can do is honor the person’s memory and make the most of each day.”
“You’re right,” he said, smiling at me pensively. “So, what do you think we should drink to?”
“To May?” I suggested.
“Hmm, what’s happening in May again?” he asked, feigning confusion.
“Absolutely nothing if you don’t smarten the fuck up,” I said, tapping his shin under the table.
“Ah, yes, it’s suddenly all coming back to me. May…Venus and Adonis. Tell me, Aubrey, would you say you’re anything like Venus in your, um, passionate tendencies?”
“Are you asking me if I’d pull you off a horse to seduce you?”
“I suppose that’s my question. Would you?”
“You’ll have to wait until May to find out,” I said with a wink.
He pulled out his phone. “Memo to self,” he said, as he typed into it. “Horseback riding with Aubrey on May first. There.” He re-pocketed his phone with a smile.
I laughed. “You’re adorable.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, smirking. “I’m also dying to try this wine, so what the hell are we drinking to?”
I picked up my glass. “To Venus,” I said decisively.
He clinked his glass against mine. “I’ll definitely drink to Venus.”
It was delicious. Among many other things, he obviously knew a thing or two about good wines. Which reminded me…
“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he said.
“It’s nothing major. I was just wondering about your family—how well-off you seem to be…” That sounded awful, even to my own ears.
Oddly enough, he didn’t seem upset. He held his hands out. “What do you want to know?”
What did I want to know?
“I—I’m not sure. I’m a little intimidated by the house, the private school education, the music lessons, the traveling…”
He leaned forward and took my hand in his. “Money isn’t important to me, Aubrey.”
“That’s easy for you to say because you have plenty,” I countered.
“Fair enough, but I don’t define myself according to financial criteria, and I don’t judge others by their bank accounts. I honestly couldn’t care less about money. But like you say, we’re comfortable, and I allow myself to enjoy the luxuries money affords.”
“Such as?”
“Eating in nice restaurants, going to concerts and enjoying the theater, living in an upscale condo, and splurging on clothes, which might be hard for you to believe, given my horrendous wardrobe over the past few weeks.”
“You have made a bit of a, well, transformation. Were all of your decent clothes lost in the move or something?”
“No.” He chuckled. “It’s kind of silly—my mother suggested I might try to, um, blend in a bit better on campus.”
“Then why the makeover?” I asked, gesturing to his suit.
“Well, the suit was for the memorial.”
“But you got your hair cut on Tuesday, and you’ve been looking mighty fine all week.”
“I don’t know. I went out for a coffee with Jeremy and Penny on Monday afternoon. I think it’s the first time Penny’s seen me on campus. She told me I looked like I’d been ‘shagging in an airing cupboard,’” he said, drawing quotation marks in the air.
“I can imagine Penny saying something like that.”
“She wasn’t joking. She told me it was a small wonder I didn’t have a trail of starry-eyed freshmen following me around. Apparently my efforts to look sloppy and unappealing weren’t working. And my unfortunate grooming habits didn’t deter you, right?”
“No,” I conceded. “I wanted to take you home and give your hair a good wash. Maybe take off all your clothes—so I could iron them, of course. It’s fair to say your mom’s plan backfired.”
“I can’t say I’m disappointed. I feel so much more comfortable when I’m not dressed like a homeless person. Anyway, that answers your questions about the wardrobe. Do you have any other concerns? About the money, I mean?”
I shook my head stupidly. I didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t trying to make me feel like a dolt, but I did anyway.
“So, do you support yourself with the money from being a TA? Or do your parents still look after you?”
“Neither, really. When Jeremy, Brad, and I turned twenty-one, we all received trust fund money from our grandfather’s estate,” he said matter-of-factly. “He was a wise investor, and he taught my grandmother a lot. She helped us plan our investments. I recently bought the condo, and Penny and Brad have bo
ught a house. It should be ready any day now. Jeremy still lives at home, but he’s starting to do well with his freelance work, so I don’t imagine he’ll stay there much longer. Anything else?”
“No.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked. It’s really none of my business, but after seeing your parents’ house—I don’t know, I felt so out of my league.”
He frowned. “I hope no one said or did anything to make you feel that way. We don’t intend to be pretentious or snobby. My mother would die if she thought we were coming across that way.”
“No, not at all. My upbringing was so different, that’s all.”
Before I could continue, our food arrived. The waitress placed our dishes in front of us and refilled our wine. Daniel leaned over to take a look at my salad. “That looks good. Is that mango?”
“Yes, I love mango. That smells incredible too,” I said, checking out his stir fry. I speared a piece of mango, dipped it in the tandoori dressing, and popped it in my mouth. “Oh, that’s divine.” I licked my lips.
“Divine? I’d say that’s an understatement,” Daniel said, staring at my mouth.
I smiled devilishly. “You need to try this.” I stabbed another mango slice, but I had a twinge of discomfort as I remembered how Matt and I had fed each other at Canoe.
“I’d love to,” he said. “But do me a favor? Lose the fork.”
He parted his lips expectantly as I reached across the table to pop the piece of fruit in his open mouth. Before I could pull my hand away, he gently pulled my fingers toward his lips and, after a taking a quick glance over my shoulder, slowly licked the juice from them. When he pulled my fingers into a V and slipped his tongue up and down my index finger, I damn near passed out.
He smiled and released my hand, which would be of no use to me ever again. How could I possibly type, write, do dishes, or complete any other mundane daily task with these fingers, which had just been gloriously serviced by Daniel’s hot tongue?
“You really don’t play fair,” I said, my voice breaking as I touched my fingers to my lips.
“I don’t recall ever claiming I’d play fair,” he replied.
“No, I suppose you didn’t.” I thought back to Wednesday’s texting session in the Hart House reading room: I want you so badly I can taste it, and It tastes like the sweetest velvet.
The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) Page 20